Appapan and Ammama

Amma was almost four, Roshan was 1 and a half. Appapan was in Qatar. He had asked Ammama to take a picture with Amma and Roshan. He wanted the image to be sent to Qatar by post. Sharing images weren’t easy back then. Letters were prominent. It was easy and efficient in those times. Later letters were replaced with recorded and cassettes. Then came to the telephone and everything else was cast aside. Appapan’s letter was clear, he needed the photo before their wedding anniversary. Amma was always running around and Ammama and Muthyammama (my great grandmother) had to run after her and get her dressed and ready. Ammama and Roshan were recovering from a fever. Roshan was grumpy and was in no mood to take a photo. Muthyammama took the three of them to a studio in Pavarty, little away from where they were staying. Muthyammama wasn’t satisfied with the studios in Kandasankdavu.

Appapan went to Qatar one year before this picture was taken. He was a mechanic in Madras but nothing seemed to work out form him. He constantly fought with the owners because he was short-tempered. His last job as a mechanic in Kerala was at a place called Ayanthole. The owner asked to change the Carburettor for one of the cars to a specific model. Appapan said that the model wouldn’t suite this car. The owner got angry and shouted, “Do what I say.” This annoyed Appapan, he threw the wrench on the ground and told the owner “I can’t do everything that you say.” And he left.

Appapan is like that. Always on the edge. Everyone in the family is scared of him. they call him pulli (Tiger) Appapan. I was never scared of him. He never shouted at me. I was the one bullying him, asking him to buy chocolates, ice-creams, and video games. Appapan’s mother died after six months giving birth to him. they had a small house in Mampilly, near Kandasankadavu. He had many brothers and two sisters. The sisters were in charge of looking after him. Appapan was always crying. Whenever Appapan’s sisters were tired of taking care of him, to make Appapan sleep, they used to give him drops of toddy thinking he would fall asleep faster without crying his heart out. Ammama, to this day, claims that Appapans’s drinking habits started with these drops of alcohol. Appapans father passed away when he was six years old. Appapan was the youngest, there were many elder brothers who were in charge of looking after Appapan and the two sisters. Some of them left and never came back. Some moved to different parts of the country in search of jobs.

Kandasankadvu was a coastal town. Vadanapilly beach was just three kilometers away. There was also a river. Appapans family house was just on the banks of the river. Fishing, collecting coconuts and selling them, working in the market and some cattle was their main source of income. Kandasankadvu market was well known for its Fish and Meat. The entire market space and the shops nearby belonged to the church. The market was right opposite the church. There was a huge slaughterhouse inside the market. There was beef, chicken, mutton, and pork. I still remember the smell of thickening blood that used to come from the slaughterhouse. The slaughterhouse was moved out of the market in 2013. But the market is as lively as it used to be. With new paint and more shops. Appapan was never into fishing or farming. But he was a hard worker. That kept him going he moved to Madras with his older brother Paulose and became a mechanic there. It was going well, after his marriage he opened a workshop of his own, which incurred aloss and had to be shut down.

He came back to Kerala and tried to work as a mechanic but it didn’t go anywhere. With his wife and two kids, he was struggling. He got an opportunity to go to Qatar and he jumped on it. He started working as a mechanic in Qatar. He had been gone for almost one and a half years. His wedding anniversary was in a couple of months and he wanted to do something special. He wasn’t there when the photo was taken. He had them sent the photo and later draw his image into the original picture. This would be the first of our family photos.

The Revival of an Author

One-part woman is not just the story of a childless couple and the hardships that they face from the society, one-part woman is a story about a place that exists in only people’s tales, a culture that people are trying to forget and characters that nobody has paid attention to before. Perumal Murugan’s stories are different, it’s not set in the present, with the bustling cities and fast-moving people, its set in a place that existed long back, in a society that was divided and people that had a close connection with nature. There are many elements explored in the novel. Perumal Murugan brings to life a culture that has been lost to time.

One-part woman or Madhorubhagan as it is called in Tamil is set on Kongunadu, an aspirant state in Tamil Nadu. The story surrounds a childless couple, Kalli and Ponna who have been married for more than 12 years but they don’t have any children. Muthu is Kalli’s childhood friend and Ponna is Muthu’s sister. Both of them long for a child. They feel incomplete without a child. The rest of society looks down on them because they don’t have any children. Ponna and Kalli take part in a lot of rituals and superstitious undertakings to convince the gods to bless them with a child. None of them are fruitful. There is a practice in Tiruchengode temple, on the 14th day of the vikasi festival, a childless married woman can have consensual sex with young men around the temple ground to have children. Men on that night were considered gods and this act was more of duty than a pleasure.

Ponna is convinced by Muthu and her mother to attend the 14th day of the festival. Kalli doesn’t know about this. He eventually finds out thinking that Ponna went to the 14th-day festival without telling him. He falls into a fit of anger and hate. Meanwhile, Muthu had convinced Ponna that Kalli had given her his permission, and that’s how Ponna agrees to take part in the ritual. This is the summary of the story.

In the end, Murugan leaves us hanging with a lot of unanswered questions. He wrote two books that are a sequel to one-part woman. Both of them in Tamil. These books aren’t translated into English. In one book Kalli kills himself and it talks about how Ponna brings up the boy on her own and how the society looks at it. In the other version, Kalli accepts the child that is born, and it talks about how they raise the child together and somehow, they drift apart.

The Controversy

After the publication of the English translation of Madhorubhagan, there was a huge backlash against the author. The Gounder community accused Murugan of defaming their caste and community. The police called both parties and Murugan was made to issue a written apology. Later, on Facebook Murugan declares that he is going to give up writing. In his Facebook statement, he said “Author Perumal Murugan is dead. He is no God. Hence, he will not resurrect. Hereafter, only P Murugan, a teacher, will live,”

The case was registered in Madras high court and the court ruled in favor of Perumal Murugan. The court order also was a part of the resurrection of Perumal Murugan as a Writer. “If you do not like a book, throw it away. There is no compulsion to read a book. Literary tastes may vary – what is right and acceptable to one may not be so to others. Yet, the right to write is unhindered.” [1]

The Change

For me the controversy and the events that followed in some way shape the author. His books before his exile and after his exile speak differently and tell a lot about the change that the author went through. In an interview, Perumal Murugan says that the stories that he had thought of writing before his self-exile are not the stories that he is writing now. If we look at Koolamdari (seasons of the palm) which was a book written before, as One-part woman talks about Konganadu, the pastoral life and his take on religion on superstition. When we look at his writings after the self-exile and before, I felt a change that Perumal Murugan went through.

Poonachi is a book that he wrote after his exile, and in the book, Perumal Murugan Openly talks about a government that makes poor people stand in lines, a government that overhears everything. He talks about people being treated like animals and animals that are more thoughtful than most humans. Poonachi is quite different from the other two novels that I have read. It is a political satire. In the translator’s note, he says that Poonachi is Murugan’s take on how the government should be. He also compares it to George Orwell’s Novel, Animal Farm. For me, Poonachi had a closer resemblance to Nineteen Eighty-Three another one of George Orwell’s Novel. A government that listens closely to the conversations of people and subjects that are scared of the Leviathan. For some reason, I felt like there is a connection between the government he talks about in Poonachi and the Government in power now.

Perumal Murugan Always wrote about his homeland. The Aspirant state of Konganadu. His close relationship with this land is somehow similar to Dante who fell in love with Florence and was later thrown out, exiled from his homeland. Dante writes about his love for Florence when after his exile, Perumal Murugan’s book, Songs of a Coward is a collection of poems he wrote during his exile. Much like Dante, he expresses his love for his homeland. He had to move out from his native, afraid of his safety.

There are many writers who were exiled because of their writing, from Dante to Salman Rushdie, but in these times of exile, the author undergoes some change. Either it’s is a positive change, writing about what they want to and not what they are told to. Another change is when they give up their stories and decide not to write. Every writer has had moments of exile, either from his home, from a society or a country. But these moments of exile in some way define what they write and why they write.

Perumal Murugan is a survivor, and he has come back stronger and more confident.in some ways he has changed but the core of his stories are around Konganadu and his love for his homeland is very visible and evident. The way he portrays the culture of a society and how he describes the people that not many people see is what makes him stand out.

[1] http://www.livelaw.in/madras-high-court-resurrects-writer-perumal-murugan-book-madhorubagan/

Banning of Books

“Any book worth banning is a book worth reading.” — Isaac Asimov

 

Banning of books is a form of censorship of material that hurts people’s sentiments. It mainly censors out materials that go against the conventional political, legal, religious or moral thoughts present in a specific region and time. There have been books that were banned in history but is very much acceptable now. This cycle of condemning and accepting is constant. As the views and social norms change with different countries, so do the books that are banned.

There have been many times where books were condemned and supressed. In earlier times there was mass burning of copies of books where the people in power decided that some books were abusive or sensitive to their beliefs. . A short example would be during the Nazi Germany in Hitler’s regimes, close to twenty-five thousand books were burned in Munich. The authorities claimed that these books were “ungermane” and they didn’t want the public to read them.

Books or literature is a social as well as political entity. After the books are published, the author has no control on how the audience is going to perceive it. Every piece of literature can be interpreted in a million ways. Even though the author has power over what he/she writes, they have no power in deciding the interpretations that then general audience will conjure. Writing is very personal ordeal but as soon as it is out in the open it becomes public and the power that the author holds over his text is diminished.

Books have a huge impact on society. It shapes the way people think. It contains a piece of culture and can be considered as an archive of sorts. It carries emotions and values. It also has a sort of ideology that may or may not be very evident. But the fact remained not all individuals or communities need to agree with what is being said in the book, this conflict of interest is one of the main reason for many people challenging a book or banning it.

We are a very diverse group of human beings. Every individual is different and so is their process of thought. Authors write the same way an artists paint. It could be passion, a statement a way of preserving culture or even a way to escape the harsh realities of life. When this piece of writing goes against the popular views or even the values of a small active section of the society, it creates problem. This group of people feel offended and abused, they feel their culture have been disrespected and teased, they think that the author is in some way discriminating them this sort of conflict rises to be an issue.

In any form of art censorship is a real threat. It undermines the value of art/ literature itself. In an age that promises freedom and prosperity, why is it that so many books are challenged so much literature banned all around the world. Even in countries like USA and UK books are being banned from public libraries and schools. The American Library Association keeps a track of all the books that are challenged in various states and keeps a list of books that are banned throughout history.

 

The idea of censorship and challenging books all lead to a lot of questions. What I will be looking at is how and why certain books are banned? What is the politics behind banning a book? How dies it effect the society and what impact does it have om literature and authorship. To conclude, we need to look at the process from two different perspectives. A historical analysis and analysing how it is in our present society. I will also be looking into related topics like freedom of speech and right of expression. Also exploring the various laws and rights that govern the challenging or banning of books.

 

 

History of Banning of Books

 

Books that were banned before or are still banned today are called banned books. After the birth of the printing press and mass production of books started to be more and more regular the conflict in views and disagreement in ideologies also sprang up. It is hard to believe that books like huckleberry fin and harry potter were wildly debated and in someplace banned. The reason we need to look at history is to understand why books are banned today. It is to draw out a comparison to what are the main reasons behind challenging and banning of books.

Books are banned in specific region for specific reasons. Books that are banned in Russia necessarily need not be banned in England. Because of the diversity in thoughts and ideologies of people, books too have received a mixed reception that might not be very uniform. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was one of the first books that was banned by the government. It was banned in the province of Hunan, China for portraying animals with human characteristics. General Ho Chien believed that attributing human language and characters to animals was an insult to humans and feared the adverse effect it would have on the young audience. It is very hard to think of Alice in Wonderland as a book that was banned. In present times this book is considered as a classic in children’s literature.

An Area of Darkness by V S Naipaul caused much controversy in India after its release. The book is an account of his visit to India, his ancestral home. The government banned the book in India because of the reason: “negative portrayal of India and its people”. The book was banned in 1964. The book is a part of trilogy which also includes the books India: A Wounded Civilization and India: A Million Mutinies Now.

George Orwell completed his book Animal Farm in 1943 but it would take him two more years for the book to be finally published. George Orwell couldn’t find anyone to publish his books because the book was a criticism of the USSR who was an important ally of the British during the world war. His political satire was later published in 1945 after the war. After it was published, Animal Farm was banned in USSR and other communist countries. The book was banned in UAE and Korea because it goes against the religious views of Islam. It is also censored in Vietnam.

Bible, the most widely read book in the world has also been banned. There are different versions of bible and it has been translated into various languages. In some countries some versions of the bible are banned. Even the Bible in vernaculars were ordered to be burned by King James I of Aragon. In 2015 Russia banned the import of a version of bible called the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures.

The Quran was banned in China from the Mao era. It is still banned in North Korea. In 2013 the Russian court censored the translated version of Quran under the country’s ‘extremism’ laws.

There are many notable books that were banned throughout history. After printing became a mass-production enterprise in the early 16^th century, lots of books were published. Anything that was against the state or church were heavily scrutinized and burned in public. There was always a fear of what would be considered offensive ranging from literature about socio-political issues to religion and sex. Government and the church played a crucial role in deciding what was accepted and what was not. The social norms back then were set by the religious faith that most people believed. In recent times, most of western countries are secular and open to all religious texts.

In India, religion still plays a major role in deciding what is wrong and what is right. Even though we are a mixed society with various religious beliefs, the government takes into consideration the beliefs of the majority. Two of the religious mythologies in India are the Ramayana and Mahabharata. It should be noted that there are many versions of the text but the ones most Indians follow are Mahabharata by Vyasa and Ramayana by Valmiki. These are the socially accepted versions that Indian upper caste Hindus follow. Other versions are not available in India and are sometimes considered anti Hindu.

 

 

 

 

 

Constitution and Banning/Censorship

 

This era has been an age of free speech and freedom. But there is no such thing as absolute freedom. There are always literature or words that will come under fire. As long as the people are diverse so will their social norms. This leads to disagreements and criticism. The French government has a long history of censorship and banning books. While the constitution today allows freedom of speech and expression. The intervention of government bodies in these matters are very minimal.

Here is a list of books that were banned and censored by the French government.

• Lamennais, Le Pays et le gouvernement(1840, led to Lammennais’ imprisonment for a year)
• Henri Alleg, La Question(Minuit, 1958 — on the use of torture during the Algerian War)
• Frantz Fanon‘s The Wretched of the Earth(1961), with a preface from Jean-Paul Sartre (published by François Maspero)
• Mongo Beti‘s Cruel hand on Cameroon, autopsy of a decolonization(Maspero, 1972) censored by the Ministry of the Interior Raymond Marcellin on the request, brought forward by Jacques Foccart, of the Cameroon government, represented in Paris by the ambassador Ferdinand Oyono.
• Bagatelles pour un massacre, by Louis-Ferdinand Céline, for antisemitism, just like by the same author :
  • L’Ecole des cadavres
  • Les Beaux draps
• Léon Degrelle‘s Tintin mon copain[1]

 

Voltaire during his time was one of the most widely criticised and challenged writer. He was banned from the state a couple of times due to his works. The French monarchy was adamant on keeping his works in the dark. The reason I took the example of Voltaire is to show the fact that when a group of artists or writers goes against the popular beliefs, their works are heavily scrutinized. Voltaire belonged to the age of Enlightenment where a lot of artists went against the structures of power and class divide in Europe. Even though most of the works are considered classics now, they were back then, discarded and banned.

Three years into the exile, Voltaire returned to France where he met Emilie du Chatelet. At the same time as this Voltaire collected all his writings criticizing France’s government and published it in France. His work, “Philosophical Letters on the English,” was published without the French court’s approval. It was immediately banned and burned in France and caused Voltaire to be banished once again.[2]

At present times the constitution of France offers Freedom of Speech and Expression. Since France is a part of the European Court of Human Right, the court has control over what should be censored and not. The books can be challenged in the court of law, but cases like that are very rare and there haven’t been any recent banning’s or challenges in France.

 

In the United States of America, there were many controversies relating to challenging books in school and public libraries. Books are mainly challenged for the reasons:

• The material was considered to be “sexually explicit”.
• The material contained “offensive language”.
• The material was “unsuited to any age group”.[3]

American Library Organisation is a group that controls the books that are assigned in libraries. Any challenges can be brought to the organisation and they will be reviewing each book. The justification that many people give for banning is that children should not be exposed to the different scenarios in the books, like sex or violence.

The Constitution of USA in its first amendment clearly talks about the freedom of speech and expression. It lays forward the freedom of press.

”That Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and consult for their common good, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”[4]

Even though the constitution provides these rights there have been many instances where books have been banned, censored and removed from the library., even the classics like How to Kill a Mockingbird was challenged on the grounds of having explicit content not fit for public. There are many bylaws that govern what is fit for general viewing and what is not. Any books can be challenged, and the matter can be taken up to the court of law.

Since America is a Federal Democracy, the states have absolute power in controlling the contents of books published. Books banned and challenged in different states vary accordingly. There have been instances where the ban was over turned and books that were challenged again.

The constitution of India guarantees its citizens the same rights. The right to freedom of speech and expression.

“In 2018, the Freedom in the World report by Freedom House gave India a freedom rating of 2.5, a civil liberties rating of 3, and a political rights rating of 2, earning it the designation of free. The rating scale runs from 1 (most free) to 7 (least free). Analysts from Reporters Without Borders rank India 8th in the world in their 2017 Press Freedom Index. In 2016, the report Freedom of the Press by Freedom House gave India a press freedom rating of “Partly Free”, with a Press Freedom Score of 41 (0-100 scale, lower is better).”[5]

Even with so many provisions for free thoughts and expression. We have almost banned everything that goes against common beliefs, from various versions of Ramayana and Mahabharata to Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. Because of our diversity, our government have to please a lot of different groups of people to expand their vote bank. So, when a community, (majority or minority) is offended because of a book, the political leaders make the issue a statement as their respect to the community rather than a proper review.

In India any book can be challenged in the court of law. The God of Small Things was challenged in Kerala high court on grounds of obscenity. For a country that boasts about freedom, we seem to be really sensitive to literature. Even a smallest nudge in our believes seems to send us into a frenzy.

This is just an example of the fact that even if the countries have a constitution that guarantees freedom of speech and expression. There are always amendments that somehow control what is being circulated and published. There are always provisions for censorship and bans. What we read, what we see and what we hear is all censored by the government to make sure that there is no friction between sections of society.

But, is it necessary to ban a book because it offends a section of the society or criticises a government in power? Isn’t literature supposed to be in a way, against what the people usually believe in?

 

 

Perumal Murugan – One Part Woman 

 

 

One-part Woman is a book written by Perumal Murugan in Tamil and was later translated to English. The book was the subject of a lot of controversy and debate. An eighteen-day protests against Perumal Murugan and his book that was published in Tiruchengode in Tamil Nadu by Hindutva outfits. The protest concluded after Perumal Murugan announced that he was not going to write anymore novels and asked the publishing company to stop the sales of his books. In this strange series of events, what fascinates me the most is the fact that it wasn’t an organization or a government that banned or censored the book rather it was the author’s self-censorship.

In a Facebook statement Perumal Murugan announced “Perumal Murugan the writer is dead. As he is no God, he is not going to resurrect himself. He also has no faith in rebirth. An ordinary teacher, he will live as P. Murugan. Leave him alone.”[6]

One-part woman or Madhorubhagan as it is called in Tamil, is set on Kongunadu, an aspirant state in Tamil Nadu. The story surrounds a childless couple, Kalli and Ponna who have been married from more than 12 years but they don’t have any children. Muthu is Kalli’s childhood friend and Ponna is Muthu’s sister. Both of them long for a child. They feel incomplete without a child. The rest of the society looks down on them because they don’t have any children. Ponna and Kalli takes part in a lot of rituals and superstitious undertakings to convince the gods to bless them with a child. None of them are fruitful. There is a practice in Tiruchengode temple, on the 14th day of the vikasi festival, childless married woman can have consensual sex with young men around the temple ground to have children. Men on that night were considered gods and this act was more of duty than pleasure.

Ponna is convinced by Muthu and her mother to attend the 14th day of the festival. Kalli doesn’t know about this. He eventually finds out thinking that Ponna went to the 14th day festival without telling him. He falls into a fit of anger and hate. Meanwhile, Muthu had convinced Ponna that Kalli had given her his permission, and that’s how Ponna agrees to take part in the ritual. This is the summary of the story.

In the end, Murugan leaves us hanging with a lot of unanswered questions. He wrote two books that are a sequel to one-part woman. Both of them in Tamil. These books aren’t translated to English. In one book Kalli kills himself and it talks about how Ponna brings up the boy on her own and how the society looks at it. In the other version, Kalli accepts the child that is born, and it talks about how they raise the child together and somehow, they drift apart.

In the book Perumal Murugan talks about this temple that worship Ardhanareeswara which is a half-man half-woman representation of Shiva and Parvati. The plot revolves around Ponna and Kalli. They are childless and have tried out everything that they possibly could to have a child. The book talks about a ritual in Kailasanathar Temple during the annual visaki festival where men are gods. During that night childless woman can have consensual sex with anyone to become pregnant. It should be noted that this ritual has been depicted in the book after thorough research and explorations. Murugan’s PhD thesis was on a Kongu author. It should be taken to consideration that he knows what he’s writing about.

There are many idols on the Thiruchengodu hill, each one capable of giving a specific boon. One of them is the Ardhanareeswarar, an idol of Shiva who has given the left part of his body to his consort, Parvathi. It is said that this is the only place where Shiva is sacralised in this mythical form. Murugan was intrigued on encountering several men in the region past the age of 50 who were called Ardhanari (Half-woman) or Sami Pillai (God-given child). On digging further, he found out that till as recently as 50 years ago, on a particular evening of the annual chariot festival in the temple of Ardhanareeswara, childless women would come alone to the area alive with festival revelries. Each woman was free to couple with a male stranger of her choice, who was considered an incarnation of god. If the woman got pregnant, the child was considered a gift from god and accepted as such by the family, including her husband.[7]

Murugan didn’t just create a fictional place that never existed. He did his research and recreated a part of culture that some people are trying very hard to forget. Is it right to supress an historical cultural ritual of a community just because you are ashamed of it now? Is it right to take out your anger on people who archive these pieces of culture in his novels? What is the point of literature if it is being banned and censored because it hurts the feelings of a section of the society? These are the questions that needs to be asked, rather than attacking the author for giving us a glimpse of the world that he created. We should ask questions to the people in power and the groups that suggest banning and censoring literature.

The main reason I took this incident for my case study is that while many governments ban or censor books and literature, Perumal Murugan in his statement declared, ‘Perumal Murugan as an author is dead’. This statement is a sad reality where an author who has so much to tell the world, decides that he’s is not going to write anymore.

The case that was registered in Madras high court eventually declared that there is no reason to ban a book just because a group of people doesn’t like it. The court in its statement said that if you don’t like the book you need not read it, no body is compelling you to read the book. It’s an individual’s choice. The court also, in a way requested Murugan to start writing, Perumal Murugan said the Statement issued by the court felt like an old friend sending him a letter.

In the breakdown of events that lead to the protest from the time when the book was released to the point where Murugan said he will give up his writing is an example of how people threaten literature and freedom. In India, this is not the first time an author has come under fire. Salman Rushdie was not even allowed to come to the country because of his book ‘Satanic Verses’. He was supposed to be a part of the Jaipur literature festival and then because of the controversies surrounding him, he wasn’t allowed to take part in the literature festival.

Perumal Murugan in his books, portrays a culture that is being forgotten and lot to time. In a way he’s preserving the practices and memories of a region. Its absurd to think of it as an act to spread hatred.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conclusion

 

We are in a world where everything is offensive, and people are becoming more and more sensitive. Literature, speech and art are censored and banned. Everything that you write, as soon as it’s out there for people to read can be interpreted in a million different ways. That remains the beauty and sometimes these interpretations are problematic. As soon as it is out in the open the author has no control of what the reader should be interpreting. It could be one person in the audience that is offended, then he makes it personal and public. With the help of social media, the interpretation of one individual is out in the open for others to read. Then a group of people who agrees with the interpretation of this individual come together calling the book offensive and abusive. That’s what happens.

 

The court verdict is important. I want to refer to the exact words again. The court in its long statement said “If you do not like a book, throw it away. There is no compulsion to read a book. Literary tastes may vary – what is right and acceptable to one may not be so to others. Yet, the right to write is unhindered.” [8] The court explained the basic truth. Literature demands to be written, if someone doesn’t agree with something, we need not ban books, just stop reading it. People who are interested in reading the book will read them. It is in our basic human nature to long for something that we are told we shouldn’t. Banning books are not going to make people stop reading those books, but in a way, the controversy helps the book reach an audience that was never present before. A group of hungry people who are waiting to do what they are told not to do.

 

Then the question remains, why do they ban books? Almost all the banned books are available on the internet and you can just download it. Then why. The answer is, its basic politics, appeasement of a certain section of the society and that’s what censorship and banning is all about. Throughout history, we can see that its not the government institutions that find a fault in the book, rather an individual or a group of people that have problem with the book. In order to please the section of society and to avoid tensions, the power structure, goes for the easiest way to deal with it, censor the bits that hurt sentiments of the people. Easy and stress free. That’s how they deal with it. The artists and writers suffer because he’s just one individual and can’t take on an entire society, some survive and some fall into this petty power play. The stories that they wanted to write are no longer matters, they become conscious of their writing and they start writing carefully.

Appeasement of certain community or society so that you will have them in your favour when they come to vote. That’s what the governments do. There are also instances where books that criticises the government or state is banned, well that doesn’t need any explanation. Many books, Gujarat Files Rana Ayub, a sting operation looking into the events that lead to the Gujarat riots. Mainly into the governments involvement. Even though the book was not banned, the amount of backlash the book received was unbelievable. There was a social media army set up just to post hate comment on Rana Ayub’s twitter profile.

We read what we want to read. We write what we feel and live as its our own life. These institutions and organisations are nothing but baggage that limit us from doing what we really want to do. They have created an illusion where they tell you, you have all the freedom in the world, but to protect you we need to take away some of it. If you don’t give it up, they will break you and take it away from you.

In this power play, literature is lost, writers are humiliated and artworks torn away to fuel politics. These are hard times to live in. a time where everything is offensive and the big brother is always watching. For writers, artists and freethinkers these are testing times.

Perumal Murugan or Dante, they never give up, they rise up from their ashes and continue to pursue what they love. They write their stories and they do it without any censors or rules, because stories are your own and nobody has the right to tell you what you shouldn’t write. And Literature will always find a way to exist and it will survive.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Censorship_in_France#List_of_censored_books

[2]https://digitalcommons.wou.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.co.in/&httpsredir=1&article=1005&context=history_of_book

 

[3] “About Banned & Challenged Books | Banned & Challenged Books”. http://www.ala.org. Retrieved 2016-04-03.

[4] https://constitution.findlaw.com/amendment1/annotation06.html#1

[5] “Freedom of the Press 2016”. freedomhouse.org

[6] “Perumal Murugan quits writing”. The Hindu. 14 January 2015. Retrieved 2016-07-13

[7] http://www.caravanmagazine.in/vantage/why-perumal-murugans-one-part-woman-significant-debate-freedom-expression-india

[8] https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/lead/perumal-murugan-book-controversy-and-madras-high-court/article14476037.ece

A Market of Stories

 

My first memory of Kandasankadvu market was when my uncle and I went to buy meat. It was Christmas and we had to buy beef and fish. Ammama and Amma are in charge of cooking. We told we will help them with buying all the necessary materials. Roshan, my uncle, didn’t have a car of his own, so we took Omana aunty’s car to the market. It was a red Maruti 800. The one with rectangle headlights and rough grey seats. Back then there was enough space inside the market to park. Now its always crowded with cars, bikes and lorries. The main entrance to the market is from the main road just opposite the church. On the front end of market, was the vegetable shop, fruit shop, Nes Bakery, a small stationary shop and another bakery. We buy our vegetables from the vegetable shop in the front and buy fruits from the fruit shop. It was always like that. There are plenty of vegetable shops near home, but we never bothered to buy it from them. Nobody even thought about it.

Nes bakery is still one place that I enjoy. They have home-made Vattappam, kinnathappam that melts in your mouth. During Onam they will have different kinds of Payasam, during Christmas the shop will be filled with red colour boxes of plum cakes. I used to drag Ammama whenever I come to Kandasankadvu and make her buy me a box of chocolate ice cream. When she comes to visit us in Kottayam, she will bring sweets and snacks from Nes. The bakery is still there, slowly taking up more space, introducing new items and keeping everyone happy.

There were no other supermarkets of shopping centres in Kandasankadavu other than the market. The market was a happening place. Right in front of the entrance there is a juice shop. The juice shop is famous for their Pazham Juice (Banana Juice). They don’t use any blenders or mixers. They mash ripe bananas with their hands and make the juice. It will be thick yellow juice that’s topped with plain peanuts. No matter wherever you go and whatever exquisite juice you try, this experience is always different and its always better.

Kandasankadavu is small place almost fifteen kilometres away from Thrissur town. Vadanapally beach is three kilometres away. It was one of the oldest Christian community in Thrissur. In AD 1807, Kochi Raja Rama Varma allotted land to the Christian community in Kandasankadavu. The church and the market were later built on this land. The market started as a Tuesday market (Chovazcha chantha) but as it grew more popular, it was open on all days. The market and all the shops opposite to the church still belongs to the church. They rent it out to different vendors from all around the state.

The market was famous for its coir industry and copra merchants (dried coconut kernels). There was also plenty of fish available. The river close to the market also played an important role in the growth of the market. Most of the transportation was through the river. There were many boats that sold various commodities near the market. The market was also famous for fish. The nearby river and the sea provided plenty of fishing grounds. As we move closer to the beach, we can see a lot of fishermen settled there. Kandasankadvu market was well known for its Onam fairs. Even today people from town come to the market for fish and other commodities.

During the Pindi perunal (east of Epiphany), the fireworks usually happen in the market. The Kandasankadvu church has a rich heritage and ammama told me that earlier there used to be horses that carried the ambhu (sacred golden arrow) from different houses. People from other religion take the ambhu into their house and pay their respect.

When I was younger the market was famous for its fresh meat shops. There were plenty of slaughter houses inside the market. The new building near Francis lane was under construction and the market was always, in my memory, existed in a peach paint, with a fresh stench of blood from the slaughter houses and dried fish. Now different buildings have different colour. People protested and had the slaughter house taken out of the market. There are still meat stalls inside the market but no slaughter houses. There will be merchants playing cards in the shade of different shops. They play for money, I used to watch them whenever I go. They are too engrossed in their game that they forget the world around them.

Kandasankadvu was a Christian community. Later on, because of its rich trade, people began to settle and the community grew. The temple near Mampilly came later, but what is special about most of these communities in Kerala is that, even if it’s a feast at the church or festival at the temple, it’s not restricted to people of one religion. Everyone is a part of it, organising it, making sure that it’s a celebration that everyone gets to enjoy.

Times have changed. The market too has changed in various aspects. New buildings, fresh paint, tar roads and better waste disposal. But there are some shops that withstand the test of time, passed on from generation to generation, they still continue to exist between those walls and somehow, I can’t think about Kandasankadavu market without Nes bakery, the juice shop, the smell of dried fish and uncles playing cards.

Visit to VITM

Visvesvaraya Industrial and Technological Museum is different than the museums that I have visited before. It had a life of its own. Most of the exhibits were working and it blinked at you with the flashing lights and red start buttons. It was short little experiences rather than a set of exhibits. These experiences can be enjoyed by anybody. Even though its science, it’s very much related to our daily lives.  There are fun activities and all around the museum. Right from the start, the green lawn and the aircraft models outside seem to add to the scenic beauty of the museum. The museum has three floors and a terrace which has small canteen and a sitting area overlooking the vast UB City skyline. The museum is also divided into different sections, seven mainly. Each section has different interactive installations and exhibits.

The Engine Hall

When you enter the museum, the first exhibition hall that you see is the Engine Hall. The engine hall was set up in the year 1994 and contains a lot of working parts of different types of engines. It has a Life size model of the first aeroplane ‘Kitty Hawk’. There is also a flight simulator where kids can go on a virtual trip and control the plane in a small simulator. What fascinated me the most where the big steam engines and boilers that where all around the hall. These stood tall like humble giants There are various cross-section models of working engines. It shows us the movement of the pistons and how the engine works. These were really fascinating, there were engines that weren’t even in production today. The hall with its exhibition showed us a little history of how industrial revolution and steam engines revolutionised our way of life.

 

A kid enjoying the Flight Simulator

 

The first floor had two exhibition halls, Electrotechnical and Fun Science. The Electrotechnical exhibition hall looked more like a High-tech laboratory in Blue and white. There is a panel you on the side that shows your shadow in a red led panel. The hall was mostly about electricity. There were models of tesla coils, nuclear power plants, different types of circuits and other things related to electricity. There were models of cities which showed how electricity was produced and distributed in a city, all with the push of a button.  It also had a Weather Station which shows us the camera tricks used during a weather telecast.

Opposite to the Electrotechnical is the Fun Science Exhibition. It is a set of interactive installations based on various laws of physics and chemistry. It had optical illusions. There was a liquid periscope that gave eccentric patterns as you rotated it. There was sand art that was made by a pendulum, tubes that had fluids with a lever, when you pushed the lever it created bubbles in the fluid tube that rose up with different speed depending on the viscosity of the fluid. There was an air gun with a plastic ball, you could use the air gun and try to put the holes in the loop which was hanging from above. More people seemed to be interested in doing the experiments and figuring out how things worked rather than reading the instructions written besides it. The room had two whispering rods placed on the opposite end on a platform, you and your friend could go on each one and whisper to each other from these platforms. The name seemed pretty apt, that was the most interesting and interactive part of the museum.

Different models of satellites

 

The second floor had two sections. The Space technology gallery had several models of satellites and a Neil Armstrong Figure right at the start. The hall looked much like the inside of a space ship with shades of metallic grey and dark blue. The ceiling was black making it look like the night sky. It also had information on various milestones India has reached in space technology. Various models of Satellite Launching Vehicles were on display. There were school students taking picture with Neil Armstrong (his statue). There was a weighing machine that showed your weight on different planets, and even the moon. The hall was engaging in some places, with the weighing machine and the models, but it was too explanatory. It had long descriptions and maps showing the growth in space technology. I never had the patience to read it all.

Entrance to the Biotechnological Revolution Hall

 

The other hall on the floor was the Biotechnological Revolution, this was quite boring for me. Cell models and brain waves, lots and lots of information about various advancements in biotechnology that I couldn’t comprehend. The hall was mostly empty. There was a replica of a laboratory and I don’t even seem to understand certain exhibits nor the notes next to it.

The third floor, the Science for Children was closed for renovation. The other exhibit hall was the BEL Hall of Electronics. Set up by Bharat Electronics Ltd, the hall had different exhibits on communication technology and computers. I felt most of the displays were outdated, in this age of VR and Super computers, the floppy disks and 512 MB RAM is not of much importance. What I did like about the hall was that it provides a diachronic view of computers. It also has many old components that you never see today. The old processors and models of the big computers that were used in the beginning of the computer age.

The Terrace was the best thing about the museum. There was a satellite dish on top. With a dozen other things that were discarded piled up into a ever-growing tumour of mechanical waste. The small canteen near the stairs had samoosa’s and puffs. Ice cream and cold drinks were also available. The snacks were cold, and if you asked them to heat it in the oven, the samosa will start acquiring the taste of other snacks that were heated in the oven. There were roughly around 30 seats with tables. You could the tall buildings and the green of Cubbon park from the terrace. It slowed me down. Now it was time to go back again.

 

I have visited only a couple of museums, Thrissur there are two, one I went to in Pondicherry and another in Ooty. But all these were lifeless exhibits that you just have to look at. What was different in Visvesvaraya was that, most of the exhibits were interactive where you learn by seeing it work or doing something. That was in some way more relatable and it stuck to the memory better. I have gone to Visvesvaraya before, once as a part of school excursion and another time with my friends when I first moved to the city. But When I got to know that the museum would be a part of my portfolio, the first thing I remembered was the weighing machine, I was fascinated by how that stuck in my memory after all those years.

I am not necessarily saying that the entire museum was fun and interesting, nope. There were dry bits too. I didn’t enjoy the Biotechnological Revolution hall or the BEL-Hall of Electronics. It was lifeless and just a way of looking at things as they were. There was nothing that involved me, nothing that I could interact with or nothing that I could play with.

Visvesvaraya is a good example of how a museum should be and how it should not. The interactive part that was installed in Visvesvaraya was colourful, fun and required a personal involvement. I enjoyed it better, I understood it better and I will remember it better but then the parts that didn’t require any involvement, I don’t think I will remember it. It was dry and lifeless, and it was boring

That Came With The Wind

 

 

We were on the terrace, I was having a beer. The three of us were talking excitedly about the Avengers movie that we were going to watch on Friday morning. Mudasir doesn’t talk much, Melvin sometimes does. I was busy eating Shawarma I bought from food magic restaurant on the main road. The wind was slow and calm. It was cold, but it wasn’t too much.

 

I stayed with Mudasir in a one-room apartment on the terrace. Mornings, the room felt like a furnace and you could barely sit inside. After the dusk, there would be these waves of wind that carried with it the loud music from the pubs around our house. It would cool the windows and curtains. I always listened to songs that came with the wind. It was broken and blurred but always had some story if you listened.

 

Then there are these moments of silence where you won’t be able to hear your own heartbeat. The clouds above flushed with the orange city skyline. These are moments of clarity when you could think out the answers to the deepest and toughest problems and these are the moments that I always miss.

 

There were apple cakes that I got from the Malayalee bakery at Kullapa circle and there were a few packets of lays. They don’t drink, I do. I was on my first bottle. Beer always makes me feel better. During the summer, it’s necessary.

 

 

 

We never listen to songs on the loudspeaker. We sit and do our thing. Most of my friends can’t comprehend that we both, even after being roommates haven’t done anything together. Mudasir is a hardcore introvert, at least most of the times he is like that. He has never talked about his personal life, and I never took much interest either.

 

Melvin can sometimes be moodier than monsoon clouds back in Kerala. He has a reputation for helping everyone he can. Pickup and drop off, carrying things, taking care of your kids, painting, Melvin is ready to do almost everything as long as he gets food and coffee. He is sometimes a very nice person.

 

I was done with my beer and wanted to watch the match. Melvin and Mudasir were still talking. Their main topic was trading and foreign exchange. I never had interest in any of those. I moved to the side and was soon engrossed in the match. Everton was playing Newcastle United. The match wasn’t important, but I love football.

 

The night was deep asleep. The wind had a certain direction. The music stopped and one wave took Melvin. He was sitting on the ledge when the wind carried him off. He flew around a little bit until the wind final carried him off to Jal Vayu Vihar. I took out another cigarette and Mudasir was busy watching impractical jokers on YouTube.

 

The night was complete. The winds have slowed down. The stars were out, lightly visible in the orange sky. It was a special night for me, nobody knew. It was my birthday, not the day I was born. I never liked my real birthday, so I made one for myself. I could celebrate it without anyone knowing and there is no greater joy than the joy of holding secrets from the crowd that is always stuck with you.

 

April 26th, that’s the birthday I gifted myself. There were no lousy wishes and Facebook posts. Nobody knew it existed and that made me excited. I don’t celebrate it at all, it’s the day that I first fell in love. If my memory is correct, I was studying in Good Shepherd Public School when I first saw her. That love was impulsive and confident. That’s exactly what I miss these days. confidence and that strength to go with your impulse. The date is also a reminder to never fall in love again. With all these emotions, came my doom.

 

…

 

Melvin walked up the stairs holding two carry bags. He had a twig stuck in his long curly hair. The navy-blue hoodie had a small hole near the shoulder. The wind dropped Melvin off near the signal. He had to walk all the way back.

 

“What do you have there?” I asked him, taking the bags from his hands and checking what’s inside.

 

“Some biriyani,” he said “but it’s special”, he took the cover from me and pulled out three pieces of bamboo. There was steam coming out from the ends and it smelled like boiled spices.

 

“This is Camel biriyani,” Melvin said, “All the way from Persia.”

 

“There is no Persia,” I said. “Not anymore.”

 

“Well I met this person when I was in the wind, he gave it to me, He said it’s from Persia.”

 

“Let’s eat” Mudasir intervened.

 

The bamboo had a wooden lid on top, you had to open it and push it from the bottom plate. It looks like taking Puttu out of the cylinder but the smell that came out with it spread into the thin air surrounding Kalyan Nagar.

 

Melvin got a big piece, which I assumed was the thigh. Mudasir got the humps and a chunk of herbs. I got the head. The head was cut into smaller pieces, but once on the plate, it rearranged itself into a proper head.

 

We all started eating. The biriyani was hot. It was spicy and I went back inside to take some water. I could never handle spicy food. It always ruined the flavor for me. I got some water and came back. Melvin and Mudasir were busy eating. That’s when I noticed the eyes inside the skull of the well-cooked camel. It looked at me for a while and then kept rotating in pain. I couldn’t let it suffer, I used my fork, plucked it from the socket and ate it. It felt like a ball of emotions and memories. Soon I could see all that the camel had ever seen, how the Persian cooked it and how it was carried with the wind inside pieces of bamboo.

 

We all finished eating and went to sleep. We couldn’t wait to see Infinity War tomorrow.

Pre-birthday Adventure

I was planning to go to Mysore or somewhere far away from this familiar crowd. That’s what I usually do on my birthdays. Find a spot and escape, wander and refresh. This year all my plans were ruined and I had to sick around the café, doing my work because my colleagues brother fell sick and he had to go and take care of him. This isn’t a life meant for me, I keep telling myself. This life of college, and steady work. Making a place your home and sticking to it. So, for me, my birthday celebration came a little before my actual birthday.

My friend and I decided to go to Johnson market and try out some hardcore meat dishes. We both loved beef and what we had in mind was beef and parotta. There was a hotel diagonally opposite Fanoos that served spicy and juicy beef curry and Kerala parotta. That’s what I had in mind when we decided to go to Johnson market. We walked from her PG, it was cold, and I was shivering. The fever had left me weak and tired throughout the week and I was still recovering. The cold wind pierced my skin like iron nails and kept rubbing both my palms as we walked to the market.

When we passed the mosque Kavya had an idea. Somebody had told her about this small kebab place called Sidique and we decided we will go there. The very thought of beef kebabs made my mouth water and stomach growl. We asked for directions in a small tea shop and understood that it was one of that crowd places that we passed by when we were walking to the market.

Sidique was a small Kebab place, we ordered one Bombay beef roll and Veal roll. It must’ve taken them around 5 minutes to fry and serve. The veal roll was exquisite and as it was fried in sparkling hot oil, it was crispy and juicy. The Roti was also freshly made. The Bombay beef roll was something different. It was covered in a crusty layer that was golden fried. Inside, it was filled with beef mince that melted like snowballs in my mouth.

While we were carried away to another sensual foodgasam, Kavya noticed that they were serving Iddiyappa and beef curry also. The very sight of it reminded me of the times when Amma would prepare string hoppers and beef curry for breakfast back in Kerala. She knew it was my favourite and would make the beef curry with thick gravy and some vegetables like tapioca.

We also noticed something special on their big tawa. A thin slice of meat, spiced up to such an extent that even looking at it made me sweat and my eyes to water. We decided we should try this strange meat. It was called Phal. We both aren’t sure what it was but it was a dynamite. The spices exploded in my mouth and I was very intolerant towards spice. My nose started watering, my eyes joined in too and soon beads of sweat appeared on my forehead. That didn’t stop me from eating it though. With the slices of onions and chunks of meat, I filled my stomach.

Along the Coast

 

Last time I went to Kerala, I decided to take my cousin and go for a road trip. John said he will get a bike somehow and I decided we were going to Kochi following a coast line route that I figured out by staring at Google Maps for thirty minutes. We were going to tell our family that we are taking the bike to the railway station, taking a train from there to Kochi in the morning. Our parents think motorbikes are not a safe mode of transport. So, we decided to lie and get out of this one.

 

It was decided. Sunday morning sharp 5 in the morning John came to my apartment. I was already ready with my camera and backpack. Mom hadn’t made breakfast yet, but she made tea for John and I drank a glass of water. Soon we were on our way.

 

We were going to drive along the coastline, stopping at the famous beaches in between, it was some 80 kilometres one side. And the highway wouldn’t be too much hectic. From Vadanapally to Fort Kochi. We first rode to Vadanapally. It was still dark, fishermen readying their small boats and fishing nets. This is the beach I was used to seeing. My grandparents’ house was just 2 kilometres from here. Whenever I was with them my uncle or cousins would bring us here. We used to play with the waves and when uncle was in a good mood, he would let me ride his red swift car. We both were silent. Watching the sun rise like an orange bubble. The beach was still cold and I clicked some pictures as John sat on the sand. As the sun become stronger, we decided it was time to hit the road again.

Vadanapally Beach

 

The bike was a new V15. It had a good pick up and moved smoothly. The problem with it was that the whole body vibrated. It made our backs numb. The whole bike shivered like it had typhoid and that was difficult for us to deal with. At some point we had to stop for a while to give our backs a break. Once when we got of the bike, John was still shaking and I had to snap him out of it by stepping on his feet.

 

Kara beach was what came after Vadanapally. It was a small beach. The smallest I would’ve seen. With trees on either side of the beach and small fishing boats on the sand. We rode the bike on the sand for a while and I loved the smell of salt and fish that was very evident when you are close to the sea.

Kara Beach

‘Da, Tom.’ John said ‘Can we stop at some church, we don’t need to go inside, we just have to stop outside’

‘Why?’ I was surprised.

‘it’s Sunday and Mummy made me promise I would go for the Sunday mass’ John said and he looked heavy with this burden.

‘Take the picture from the internet, tell Mummy you saw the mass. If she asks me, I will tell her we attended the mass.’

The burden eased, he smiled and the innocent polite person he is, he asked ‘is it ok?’

‘Of course, it is.’ I reassured him and we go on with our road trip.

Next up was Cherayi beach. As we were on our way a group of Harley Davidson riders overtook us. As much as we tried, we couldn’t even get near them. We saw them again as we reached the beach, they were already there and settled. John was taken aback by the blue waters, the tourist and the long coastline. He was happy. I could tell. We both never spoke too much. But we had some bond that existed ever since he was born. I was the eldest of the cousins and he was the second. We were inseparable during our childhood but as we grew up, we started seeing each other less often. Now, whenever I’m in Thrissur we meet up and do something together. He is always polite and humble. But he’s up for anything as long as I’m up for it. We made a formidable team. He is my friend and family.

Back waters on the way to Cherayi Beach

We left Cherayi and were on open wide roads. Next stop was a place called Mundakkal. A small fishing village and it also had a ferry service to Vypin. We decided we will take the ferry. The place was buzzing with fishermen and early morning market goers. The last batch of fish had arrived and they were auctioning it outside the dock. There was huge crowd waiting for the fish. The small sailboat docked outside danced with the waves. John and I had something to drink and was talking to the shopkeeper about the ferry. He told us that the ferry service was on strike and I will have to go by road. Which meant we would take more time as we had to go all the way around. But we could also go to the lighthouse. We walked around for a while and decided to leave.

Vypin was silent. Narrow roads near the old lighthouse and muddy. The bike was tired and we were too. We stopped near the lighthouse and clicked some pictures. We waited for a little while and went to the beach. Tried drifting on the sand and failed. Sat down for a while. It felt good, sotto on something that wasn’t shaking and shivering. We decided to take the Vypin ferry to Fort Kochi.

Vypin Lighthouse

 

It took us 10 minutes on the ferry. And we were there. Fort Kochi. We walked on the stony walk way. Taking pictures. John was happy. Too happy. He hasn’t done much of travelling and it was my duty to introduce him to this life on the road.

 

‘This is the right way to do it.’ he told me

‘The right way to do what?’ I asked, I was confused

‘To travel, to go on a trip. This is the right way to do it’ he said. Excited and happy. ‘I have gone on trips with my school friends and even family, but it was just the usual, this is different, this has a bit of thrill to it’

Those words were enough to make me happy I had finally made it up to him. After staying away from home, I was back, and he was happy I was back. That was enough. We had lunch roamed around the narrow streets of Maatanchery, Vytila, Thevara and by evening we decided to head back home. John was happy, I might’ve never seen him happier and I was content.

Chinese fishing nets at Fort Kochi

In all this happiness we forgot about the photo and told Johns mom we attended mass at Edappaly church. John also memorised some words which he said was what the priest said during mass, I just followed his lead and agreed to everything.

 

 

Hometown

I always had this longing to go back to Thrissur. My grandparents and cousins were there. I knew the neighbours and I knew the shops that surrounded the market. In kottayam it was always different. I had a group of friends, but I missed my grandparents, my cousins and the big markets. I would wait eagerly for the summer holidays, waiting to jump on parashuram express or some other train and head back home.

Usually it’s Amma, Joe and I who will travel in the train. Appa will drop us off at the station and go back to taking care of the business. He will only come to thrissur for a couple of days and we all leave by car.

Appapan and Ammama will be there at thrissur, waiting with sarasettan, who’s our driver. We will all go home, freshen up and munch on all the pistachios and badams that appapan would’ve bought from Qatar.

I love my grandparents’ house. You take a small stroll from the back side of the house, you will come to acres of fields. You take a few strolls from the front of the house, you will reach the river where the boat race happens. Then you cross the bridge, 2kms further ahead, you have the vadanapilly beach.

I loved the beach. The sand filled parks and the warm smell of fresh fish all somehow makes me feel at home.

Evenings, Appapan and me walks down to the market, right opposite to the giant church. The market complex has bakeries, juice shops, vegetable shops, meat and fish. Famous for the fresh beef that’s cut here every Saturday. We buy 2 kg beef from the shop right at the south end of the market. I don’t know why we buy it from there, it always been like that.

Evenings, Appapan and uncle will open a bottle of brandy. We all sit at the balcony. They will drink and we will munch on the beef fry that was made in the big brass urli.

Now everything has changed. I don’t visit that often. I have another hometown apart from Thrissur and I don’t seem to miss either of them when I’m away. I am enjoying the journey that takes me to places that I have not seen yet.

One Drunk Night

He never told himself that he loved her. He buried it with all his other thoughts, deep inside where no amount of drunkenness would ever bring it out. He remembers one time, when he was too drunk to remember his own name, blurting out these forgotten feelings somehow trying to convince himself not to speak. That night was long gone. She would’ve forgotten and he hoped she would. The following day, he barely remembered what happened the night before. All he could remember were tiny frames of time, walking and swaying, talking and dancing. Her smile, he could clearly remember, and her every word that somehow got stuck in his fragile mind.

Two days it took for her to tell him what happened that night. The night that he didn’t remember. He was drunk. Shots after shots and beer in-between. Until finally he started drinking from the rough bottle of Old Monk. He was never a rum guy, but that night was different, he was happy, extremely happy, and if he could stand, he drank.

When the spirit finally took over his tired body. He fell, he fell onto the table and then landed on the floor. He tried to pick himself up, but he wasn’t at his best and his friends helped him up and put him to bed. None of this he remembers. Pieces that he put together after hearing bits from everyone who was there with him that day. Someone told him he puked while sleeping, and all of them had to change his clothes and put him in bed again. This, was true, he was in someone else’s trousers and shirt. Some friends told him that it was great fun to watch him go all out. Go crazy and be full of life. Some told him he danced like a duck. But all he wanted to hear was what she had to say. And her words struck him like thunder on a sunny day.

“What emotion do you have towards me.” She asked him, on the way to class. He looked at her, he couldn’t find her eyes, they kept looking forward into a fixed space in that empty corridor.

“what emotion? why are you asking this now?” he asked her, surprised and a sudden thought of losing her made his steps a little heavier. He sat down on the dusty staircase right in front of their class, and listened to her, staring at the wall ahead of him, trying to place her words in his memory of that night.

“You were too drunk. You kept telling me  you had something to tell me but couldn’t say it. You kept repeating it. “she said, smiling.

He tried to smile too, but couldn’t. “oh, shit. I messed it up again” he knew that he might’ve said it. But he couldn’t believe it. He never could. This was something that he had buried long back, something that he would cherish and burn alone.  But now it was there in the open, staring and taunting him. He knew he had to end it or else it would come and haunt him and the pain would suck him into a downward spiral that he avoided.

“It was just the drunk me talking. Don’t take it seriously. “he said, somehow trying to convince that all of that was nothing more than a drunk guy who lost his head. And when he was sure that she was convinced it was just that, he never brought up the topic. He never talked about it. Never thought about it. It went back to that same old cupboard where he had buried many of his desires and this crazy unrequited love, that melts like ice and bursts like fireworks. It somehow covered itself and everything went back to normality.

Some days, strange flashes of memory hit him. Something that he completely believes to be an illusion. He somehow has a memory of her telling him something the day that he was drunk, something that is too good to be real and something that he believes isn’t real. And it loops, every now and then this memory goes knocking into that old cupboard and keeps knocking until he finds a way to shut it out. Now he’s on his way, with nothing to win and nothing to lose, on his way to carve out and erase memories.